Archive for the ‘tips’ Category

Preparations for Summer Road Trip 2010 are in full swing. We back out in twenty one hours but we’re (relatively) stress free; the process is down to a science, and we only have 16 feet of Airstream to pack and tow away.

Resources abound for helping you ready your rig and a person could go checklist crazy. We maintain only two: a limited supplies list (including necessities like “presto log” and martini olives) that resides in the RV Companion iphone app, and a by-the-book hitch up and go procedure. (Never want to get sloppy even though we know the drill by heart.) 

Our simple departure and arrival checklist is laminated against the damp, with one side for hitching up and the other for settling in at the campsite. The arrival steps are in a larger font, making the list easier to read in case we pull in after dark. 

• The Summer 2010 Airstream Life magazine (page 8 in the online preview version) has an exhaustive article that will help you “confirm that everything is ready to roll.” (Nah, says you, we just wing it? The unnerving “Top Five Mistakes You’ll Make Without A Checklist” will scare you straight.)

• The StreaminAcrossAmerica.com blog and the June 2010 Trailer Life both present a DIY first aid checklist. (Purchase a pre-stocked one to support your American Red Cross—and don’t forget an emergency kit for the unexpected.)

• Lastly, for us grrls: the disappointingly practical Glamping Accessories Kit.

Though Ralph has the Wally Byam Caravan Club in his bloodstream we knew virtually nothing about it when we bought the DWR and fell awkwardly into membership in 2007. Now, with one week to prepare ourselves for the spectacle that will be the WBCCI 53rd International Rally—our first official rally as members—procrastination must end. It’s time to apply our Big Red Numbers.

Among the many annoyances at the unforthcoming WBCCI website is no official explanation of the history of these numbers or what point they practically serve today, sixty years since the club was founded. Most members surmise that their purpose is threefold:

1. To look up other Airstreamers in the club directory (stalkery)
2. To allow authorities to find you in case of emergency (improbable)
3. To help you identify your trailer among the hundreds of others at a rally when returning drunk from happy hour (credible)

Whichever. Displaying The Numbers on the forehead and rear of one’s Airstream is part of the nerdy esprit de corps of the WBCCI and I’m all about it.

They arrived in our membership packet three years ago with two pages of complicated directions but I’ve seen no reason to apply them until now, as it would take a dangerous number of martinis not to be able to pick out our model from the lineup at a small rally. We were told by the dealership that there were only 25 made and though I’ve tried, I’ve only been able to surface two other DWR owners: Tom Hanks, and a very nice web designer in Minnesota. I am loath to permanently affix anything to our rolling collector’s item that didn’t come from the factory or that was conceived and authorized by Design Within Reach and/or Christopher Deam.

Other ‘streamers before us have been equally reluctant and have devised clever ways to temporarily attach The Numbers. I opted for the peel and stick method recommended by the Phred Sez column in the Blue Beret and ordered a sheet of (not cheap) static cling vinyl from Squier Design, an outfit that creates custom vinyl graphics for race cars. They vowed that the material would adhere well and “stay clung to the Airstream at highway speeds.”

I honestly tried to read all three sets of tips and instructions from Phred, the WBCCI, and Squire, but my mind went into mental neutral after the first paragraph of each and I tossed them aside. (As Fredo would say, “I can handle things! I’m smart!”) The steps I followed (measure a little, squint a lot) are illustrated above. My scotch tape process turned out to be very sticky and slow going, especially the zero. Proceed with caution and nearby cocktail, or affix the conventional way.

The language of Twitter is humiliating. “Tweet me”; “I tweeted”; “Guess what, Tweeple?” (It’s for a similar reason that I don’t patronize Burger King. I can’t tell another person that I need a “whopper”.) Despite this, I love and depend on Twitter, and mercifully, most users have grown tired of thinking up new words that begin with “tw”. 

I get it that a vast population considers Twitter to be pointless, narcissistic and time-consuming (the latter it indeed is). Opting out is a viable choice. Sometimes even regular tweeters (see? how idiotic is that) have difficulty conceptualizing its practical benefits. But if you travel, Twitter is an invaluable tool.

• If you know where you’re going ahead of time (weeks in advance), seek out and follow people tweeting from the town or area you’ll be visiting to learn about local events and possibly arrange a tweetup while you’re passing through.

• On a road trip, consult search.twitter.com as you near a destination, enter the relevant keywords, and see what the buzz is before you get there. Sometimes users will be talking about a festival, performance or gathering that you weren’t aware of that would be fun to attend, or they tweet about road conditions, traffic, weather, and local hot topics that are useful to know before you hit town.


• Take pictures and attach them to your posts so followers can see what you’re experiencing as you travel. (I shoot plates of food.) Sharing is appreciated, and useful feedback about your location will be forthcoming.

• If you’re planning to attend an event, look it up through “find user” or search.twitter, and follow the associated users, if only for a short time. Often, organizers will be utilizing Twitter for publicity and posting updated information. When you’re there, whether it’s a sporting event, art exhibit, concert or street fair, live tweeting to your feed will be valued and most likely generate new like-minded followers. Use the established hashtag.

• Twitter can be handy in case of emergency, too. Following The Incident, I contacted @AirstreamSvs at the factory in Ohio, who swiftly sent a return message with safety information related to the damage incurred from wrapping the trailer around a concrete pole.

The Catch-22 of using Twitter on the road is lack of connectivity; the more remote (and interesting) a location, the less likely you’ll be able to use the internets. But about an hour away from a reasonably populated area you’ll regain access. (Follow me @tknopeasnt).

And on your iPhone…wait, you don’t have an iPhone? Please. At your earliest convenience. Resistance is futile. That thing will be pried from my cold dead fingers. Communicator, computer, camera (ok, crappy camera), tour guide, weather station, babysitter, cookbook, and road map to anywhere in the world, it can be packed with every conceivable convenience. When the ad says, “There’s an app for that”, they mean it. Visit the Airstream Knowledge Sharing Forums thread, What’s on Your iPhone? for dozens of clever ways to use it when you camp or ‘stream. My new favorites suggested by other users include RV Companion ($5.99) to keep track of reservations, supplies, and procedures (and includes a bubble level and flashlight); and Campwhere ($3.99) which lists the 7500 federal, state and local campgrounds in all fifty states (with directions and facilities).

Gotta go? You need Rest Area (.99) or Find a Starbucks (.99).

After dark, use the gorgeous graphics of Star Walk ($4.99) to find your place in the universe and locate constellations and planets.

If you camp in a tiny trailer like we do, download Kindle (FREE) to eliminate bulky books. And in lieu of real musical instruments to play around the campfire, try the ridiculous More Cowbell (.99)—which also can be set to maracas, triangle, or tambourine—and Harmonica (.99): guaranteed to fool eight year olds, drunks, and your mom.

The inn was full near Glenns Ferry, Idaho. We were unaware that the Three Island Crossing was taking place, the annual (and this year, final) reenactment of (yes) the Oregon Trail settlers struggling to cross the dangerous Snake River with their wagons and horses. Every RV park for miles was full: the state park, Power Pop Campground, everything. (“Power Pop”, that cracked Ralph up. “Is that next to Speed Metal RV Park? Across from Hair Band KOA?”)

We met Stan, the caretaker of Carmela RV Park, who took pity on our ignorance and graciously offered us a place to hook up in the parking lot of Carmela Vineyards, right next to the vines and tasting room. We reluctantly pulled away the next morning, sidetripped to Sisters, Oregon to visit friends, and returned, exhausted, to the driveway in Portland.

What we learned together, trapped in a car

• We moved too fast. Each new location really requires a day for driving and set up, a day to see, and a day to reflect.

• Schedules are bad. I never again want to stumble upon an event like the final reenactment of the Three Island Crossing and not see it because the calendar dictates that we must leave the morning it takes place.

• Easing up on the tight timeframe may help us avoid confrontations like this typical exchange:
Ralph (driving) (congenial tone)- “Say, there’s a scenic overlook up ahead. Would you like to pull over and see it?”
Rhonda (laboring to post a tweet with continued lack of connectivity, looks up from iPhone)- “What? Uh, ok I guess. Yes!”
Ralph (now agitated) (eyeroll)- “Well all right, we can stop, but then we really have got to get going!!!”

• If you change the bread and dance up the chips, you can tolerate turkey sandwiches in the car for lunch everyday for more than two weeks without growing bored with them.

• Traveling with dogs necessitates going no longer than ten days before everything must be ejected from the trailer and tow vehicle for a complete HazMat-level cleaning.

• Making Chex Mix in a ziplock bag in the back window doesn’t work.

• Don’t leave home without bike tools.

• Airstream dealership information on the internet is woefully outdated.

• New Mexico kind of sucks.

• They don’t know this but the national parks “Oh, Ranger!” campaign is just flat funny and vaguely obscene. (Here’s what’s adorable, though: any child who obtains a workbook from a visitor center, completes the necessary assignments, then presents it to a ranger who “checks their work” will be awarded a certificate appointing them as a “Junior Ranger”. How old school is that?)

• The DWR may be tiny but it has everything we need.

Comments about it as we traveled ranged from “Wow, that’s swanky!” from a young couple at Arches who took its picture, to “Your trailer is so cute, how can I get one!?” shouted from a woman at a gas station in Idaho. (Ralph took the time to actually explain the various Airstream models and advised her to visit airstream.com—and spelled it and repeated it. The husband gave him a withering, dude-what-are-you-doing-to-me look.) My favorite: As we passed through the biker gauntlet in Keystone South Dakota, a young man yelled happily, “Holy shit! That’s the smallest f*cking Airstream I have ever seen!!”

Ripley required only minor first aid after stepping on the cactus but Ralston, age ten, inconveniently fell ill with some kind of undiagnosable ailment the day we left and appeared to be at death’s door during the entire first week of our trip. After consulting vets in three states he was eventually back to what passes for normal. We kept him hydrated and cool along the way with the help of this special mat and bandana.

Soak the mat in water to activate the “cooling crystals”, then plop it down as a place to ride in the car or rest in the shade. (I’m not sure of the manufacturer of Ralston’s safety orange version but the popular MiraCool mat is the same principle.) Combine this with a cooling bandana to keep your pet’s pulse points moist and he’ll comfortably pant with a cool belly and neck. Purchase the pictured human version at any REI but MiraCool also offers one that looks sharper on a dog.

I learned the warning signs to watch for when Ralston was ill from a Red Cross Pet First Aid class. Owners, you’ll have greater peace of mind roadtripping with your dog or cat when you know you’ll be ready to perform rescue breathing or administer stop-gap emergency treatments on your way to the nearest vet. You’ll also learn how to assemble a custom pet first aid kit, and the class workbook is a handy reference to keep in the glove compartment.

Yes, it does. Ralph, who pores over industrial catalogs for relaxation, had a genius idea: one piece, insulated work coveralls to wear while camping. “Think about it,” he persuaded. “It gets a little cold or rainy, boom, we pull on the suits. The dogs need to go out in the middle of the night? Jump into the suit.” Horrified but intrigued, I agreed and they soon arrived mailorder (70% off) from Sierra Trading Post.

Initial embarrassment was overcome within ten minutes. Who cares what strangers at the KOA think about you? These trailer suits are awesome. As soon as we pull in, unhitch, and deploy the lawn chairs, I’m in the suit, cocktail in hand. (Ralph has the dignity to wait at least until dark). We further geekorized them with matching hats, black scarves and slip-on mud shoes from l.l.bean, and are planning to stencil the word “T E A M” on the back for a Devo effect.